


Undeath

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this prompt from hamiltonprompts on Tumblr: "History fact: Hamilton was falsely reported dead to Washington and the camp de aide after Schuylkill. Camp’s reaction to news and surprise when Hamilton shows up alive and well. Lams, Gay Trio, and/or relieved dad Washington please." </p><p>No one is actually dead, but I checked major character death just in case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John Laurens was sitting on the ground by the smoldering embers of a campfire, waiting for Alexander to return. He was taking even longer than usual. John chuckled to himself, knowing Alex was probably off talking some poor officer’s ear off.

Lafayette approached the fire. “Laurens? You’re still up?”

“I told Alexander I’d wait for him.”

Lafayette dropped down on the ground next to John. “I will wait with you.”

“Thanks.”

Neither made another sound until they heard footsteps behind them. John jumped up and turned around, thinking it was his Hamilton, but it wasn’t. It was George Washington, and the unguarded look in his eyes and the tears on his cheeks made every muscle in John’s legs itch to run far, far away from whatever was to come next.

“Laurens,” Washington said, and took a deep breath. “Alexander Hamilton has been reported dead.”

_Dead._

_Dead._

_Alexander Hamilton has been reported dead._

The words ricocheted around John’s mind for a full minute before he could process them. _Dead._ He wasn’t late. He was dead.

Suddenly, the very same legs that had wanted to carry John far, far away from Washington and his bad news decided to stop working, and John collapsed on the ground, huge sobs escaping him. His father would be appalled if he knew John was crying, and in public, too, but John didn’t care.

Alexander Hamilton was dead.

He was aware of a hand on his shoulder, soft words in a French accent, Washington telling him how sorry he was, everything piling up inside of him until he could barely take it.

Alexander Hamilton was dead.

He heard Lafayette talking to Washington, asking him the details, how it had happened, what they would do next, how best to honor Alexander, but John couldn’t process any of it. Finally, Washington walked away, and Lafayette wrapped his arms around John.

It seemed like hours had passed when Lafayette got up, but John knew it was probably only a few minutes. He sat up. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I have to pray for his soul. Will you join me?”

Laurens nodded and stood up. They stood next to the former fire in the darkness, Lafayette whispering in French, Laurens whispering in English.

When Laurens looked up, a figure was approaching from the other side of the fire pit. It looked like— he wouldn’t let himself think it. He _wouldn’t_ get his hopes up.

It _was_ Alexander Hamilton.

John practically vaulted over the fire pit to hug him. Lafayette followed, slower, walking around the fire pit, joining the group hug.

John held on long after Lafayette had let go, his face buried in Alexander’s shoulder.

“Why the warm welcome?” Alexander asked. “It would not be the first time I have kept you waiting up at night.”

Lafayette said something in French. Upon hearing it, Alexander wrapped his arms around John, too.

“I’m not dead, John. I’m not dead, and I don’t plan to be for a good long time. After all, there is so much I must do.”

John finally let go. “Washington said-“

“Washington was misinformed. Which would you rather believe as to my current status, dear Laurens, Washington, or the evidence standing right in front of you? Come, it’s late. Both of us must sleep in preparation for tomorrow.”

Laurens nodded and allowed himself to be led to his bed. However, when Alexander tried to get into his own bed, John grabbed his arm. “Don’t go, Alexander.”

Alexander sat down on the edge of the bed. “John, I must sleep just as much as you.”

“There is a great fear within me that you will not wake up tomorrow.”

“An unfounded fear. There is nothing to suggest that I will perish in the night.”

“Would you stay here with me? Only for tonight?”

“Where would I stay? There’s no room, John.”

“We can make room, Alex.”

Alexander sighed. “If I must.”

John smiled, pulling Alexander down next to him, wrapping his arms around Alex and pulling him close. “Thank you, Alexander.”


	2. Washington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton tells Washington he's alive.

In the middle of the night, John woke up with a lurking feeling of abject terror. He blinked a few times, trying to remember why, but his murky searches were impeded by a weight across his torso and a head pressed into his neck. He realized his arm was around Alexander, and the weight across his own torso was Alexander’s arm, slung over his waist.

Then he remembered the reason for the terror, and he pulled Alexander as close as he dared. How could he have thought this man was dead when he was, even in sleep, so obviously alive?

He jumped a little when Alexander started talking, something about money and death and giant rabbits, but as the words grew less and less coherent and as Alexander didn’t stir, John remembered other nights like this, when Alexander had spoken without awaking. He smiled to himself. Of course Alexander’s brain couldn’t cope with not talking for eight or so entire hours.

The next time John woke up, it was without any feelings of great dread. It _was_ , however, with a confused Alexander Hamilton’s face a mere two inches away from his own.

“Why am I here, John?”

John smiled. “Because I was afraid that you might not be.”

Alexander’s face clouded over as he tried to interpret this. “I was reported dead. You were worried about me.”

“We all were.”

“You needed to sleep in the same bed as me to make sure I was okay.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

But Alexander was smiling. “You care about me.”

“Far too much.” Even that admission was too much. John shook his head to clear it. “But concern was within us all. Lafayette, General Washington…”

Alexander shot up into a sitting position. “General Washington.”

“Is there something in particular about him?”

“Does he know that my fate was not as reported?”

John pushed himself up, slowly realizing what Alexander was getting at. “You ought to tell him.”

“Would you join me?”

“Someone does have to explain before a ghost appears in his tent.”

Both men stood up.

“I’d wager I can dress faster than you, Hamilton,” John said.

“You’re on.”

They rushed to get their uniforms in order, flinging coats around their shoulders, fiddling with buttons, pulling on socks, then boots. John looked up as soon as he was done. Alexander was still tying the laces on his boots. “I won.”

“I resent you.”

“Somehow, I doubt it.”

They made their way to Washington’s tent. John poked a head in first. “General Washington?”

Washington was at his desk, his head down. He raised his head, greeting John with a weary look. “Yes?”

“Sir, there has been an interesting turn of events since the announcement of Hamilton’s death.”

“And that would be…?”

“Hamilton is not dead. It was a false report.”

Suddenly, Washington looked a little less weary. “He’s not?”

John stepped all the way into the tent, grabbing Hamilton’s arm and pulling him in.

“Deepest apologies, General Washington, for not telling you sooner,” Hamilton began. “It was inexcusable, I know, and I regret that the thought slipped my mind—“

“No need to apologize for being alive, Hamilton,” Washington said. “I do wish you had told me sooner, but your apology is wholly unnecessary.

“Thank you, sir.”

“I do wish you would not put yourself in the line of fire so often, however. Let this be the last report of your death, false or otherwise.”

“Understood, sir.”

A small smile touched Washington’s face. “Thank you, Hamilton.”

**Author's Note:**

> chapter 2 is ham waking up and realizing he forgot to tell washington


End file.
